


A Weekend with Bumi

by Odae



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Family Fluff, M/M, brief Kataang, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odae/pseuds/Odae
Summary: “How are we supposed to take care of a baby?” Sokka's voice is high-pitched and nasal, the way it sounds every time they’re confronted with an impending fight, or when one of his plans does not, well, go to plan.“How would I know?” Zuko spies drool dribbling down Bumi’s chin and does his best to wipe it discreetly with his sleeve. He sneaks a glance at Sokka in case he’s noticed his grimace of disgust, and then clears his throat and says, “He’s your nephew.”“Hey,” Sokka says quickly, crossing his arms, “as of three months ago, he’s yours, too.”When Katara and Aang are called away to save an Earth Kingdom village, Sokka and Zuko must suddenly take care of baby Bumi. No one expects them to be able to do it, least of all themselves, and everyone is surprised when it actually doesn't go that badly?
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 584





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> from another prompt over on [tumblr](http://koalaotterodae.tumblr.com)!

Breakfast has just been served on the eastern patio of the Fire Nation royal palace when an attendant rushes over to the Fire Lord’s table. Zuko’s soup spoon has made it halfway toward his mouth while Sokka has been regaling Katara and Aang with a story about his latest trip to the royal tailor—his visits have only become more frequent now that he is  _ officially _ married to the Fire Lord and has unlimited access to the best silks from Shiruku mountain—and the young parents have been steadily feeding one-year-old Bumi bites of fermented soybean. Zuko returns the spoon to the bowl when he sees the member of his senior staff approaching, the steam of the broth curling up and disappearing in front of his face. 

“Yes, Hoshi?” he asks. 

Hoshi bows deeply in front of Zuko. “My lord,” he begins, “a messenger hawk has just arrived from the Earth Kingdom.” He rises and turns toward the other side of the table, a scroll held out in his hand. “For Avatar Aang.”

“Thanks, Hoshi,” Aang says, reaching out to take the message. Hoshi disappears back into the palace.

Aang finishes feeding Bumi a piece of sweet potato before carefully placing his chopsticks next to his dish and unfurling the message. The rest of the table falls quiet as he reads, and for a while, there are only the sounds of birdsong and rustling trees from the garden below them. But then Bumi’s chubby hand reaches into his mouth, and Sokka fails to hold in a guffaw as the baby flings mushy sweet potato right onto Katara’s dress. Just as Sokka’s about to let loose into a full laugh, Katara victoriously holds up the napkin preemptively placed on her lap, immediately disappointing her brother. Zuko smiles in amusement. Aang rolls the message back up. 

“What is it, Aang?” Katara asks. 

“There’s a spirit attacking a village on the west coast of the Earth Kingdom,” Aang says, already rising from his seat. “I have to help them.”

“I’m coming with you,” Katara says determinedly. She shifts Bumi to her hip to stand.

“But, Katara, it’s not safe,” Aang reasons with her. “The spirit’s already ruined half of the villagers’ homes and taken some of them into the Spirit World.”

“Then you shouldn’t go alone,” Katara replies. “They’ll need help from both of us.”

“Okay,” Aang says slowly, “but I really meant not safe for Bumi.” He tilts his head toward the baby boy gurgling on his mother’s hip, his round, little fist once more in his mouth.

Sokka and Zuko watch Katara as she considers her son carefully. Bumi always joins his parents on their travels—they’ve even taken him down the mail chutes at Omashu and on the backs of kangaroos on Kangaroo Island. Leaving him behind seems unimaginable. But a fierce expression lights across Katara’s face, much like the one she gets before endangering their lives to save a village, or when she decides to teach the Northern Water Tribe’s female benders herself. She has an idea, and she will follow through on it.

“Sokka and Zuko can take care of him,” she says matter-of-factly.

Sokka and Zuko exchange alarmed looks as Katara hands Bumi to her brother, and Sokka becomes very concerned with holding the baby up and out from under his arms. Bumi’s always been big for his age, but Sokka’s hands still wrap completely around the upper part of Bumi’s torso, his fingertips meeting across Bumi’s back. Sokka always worries while holding him that his nephew is a very small, very fragile, little human being, but now he feels doubly aware of it, especially as the person suddenly responsible for his care.

“Are you sure—”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Aang says cheerfully. He pulls out his bison whistle to call Appa, but before he blows into it, he turns to the two men still sitting, stunned, on the floor and asks, “As long as you’re okay with it?”

“Of course,” Zuko says, shaking off his surprise. He stands and takes Bumi from Sokka, his arms still outstretched, and tries to hold him in a way that might reassure Katara and Aang that they’ve made the right decision. From their small smiles and intense focus on the sky, however, it doesn’t look like they need much reassuring. 

“You’re in good hands, buddy,” Aang says to his son once Appa’s arrived. He gives Bumi’s hand a little shake. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Katara kisses both of Bumi’s cheeks and the top of his head, and then tickles his neck to make him erupt into a fit of giggles. 

“We’ll keep him safe,” Sokka promises, now standing to put his arm around Zuko’s shoulders. 

“I know,” Katara replies with a smile. She hugs her brother fiercely, then Zuko just as tightly, and kisses Bumi one more time for good measure. She only looks a little sad when Aang helps her onto Appa’s saddle. 

“Be careful!” Zuko calls after them. 

“You’re one to talk, Zuko,” Aang laughs as they take off, and Zuko can only smile and shake his head goodnaturedly, watching as Appa becomes only a speck in the sky. 

When Zuko looks away, he finds Sokka still staring into the clouds in great distress. His eyes have gone wide, a grimace is plastered to his face, and if his arm weren’t around Zuko, he’d probably be pulling his own hair.

“Hey,” Zuko says in that soft, raspy voice of his, “they’ll be okay.”

Sokka starts. “I know that,” he says, pulling his arm back. 

“Then what are you so worried about?”

Sokka uses both hands to gesture toward Bumi, gurgling away in Zuko’s arms. “How are we supposed to take care of a baby?” His voice is high-pitched and nasal, the way it sounds every time they’re confronted with an impending fight, or when one of his plans does not, well, go to plan.

“How would I know?” Zuko spies drool dribbling down Bumi’s chin and does his best to wipe it discreetly with his sleeve. He sneaks a glance at Sokka in case he’s noticed his grimace of disgust, and then clears his throat and says, “He’s  _ your _ nephew.”

“Hey,” Sokka says quickly, crossing his arms, “as of three months ago, he’s yours, too.” His tone turns borderline academic, and his arm extends in something like an invitation. “Maybe  _ you  _ could come up with an idea for how to take care of him?”

Zuko frowns in response. With Aang and Katara gone, he and Sokka are the only adults on the patio. The leaves of the trees in the garden below shudder in the wind, no figures present to impede them but insects and their wings. Hoshi is nowhere within calling distance, the nearest guard is somewhere on the roof, and the last royal nurse was dismissed years ago. It is just them and the little table covered in dishes that have barely been touched, the bowls of soup still steaming. 

Bumi lets out the beginning of a low wail and immediately succeeds in regaining Zuko’s attention. 

Zuko pales and begins bouncing his nephew. “We could start by finishing breakfast?” he suggests. 

Sokka immediately breaks into an eager grin and reaches excitedly for Bumi, whom Zuko is more than happy to hand over. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he almost chides himself, suddenly balancing Bumi seemingly effortlessly on his arm. He lands easily back in his seat at the table, holding the baby up so they can both survey the spread before them. 

From this angle, Zuko realizes, with Bumi’s dark hair and dark skin and blue eyes, he and Sokka look stunningly alike. It comes not only from the clear markers of their shared heritage, but also in the pure emotion of their faces, Sokka’s so angular, Bumi’s soft and round. The look and smell of the food causes similar reactions in both of them, absorbing all of their attention and analysis. Zuko almost wants to laugh at the sight, an unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest and filling him with a welcome warmth, almost like plunging into a hot bath. 

“All right, Bumi,” Sokka says instructionally. He moves his chopsticks adeptly over the collection of plates. “Your dad might be a vegetarian, but you’re half-Water Tribe, so it’s your birthright to eat meat. And your mom isn’t here to stop me. So.” 

Sokka reaches for one of the plates, only to spy Zuko looking down at him disapprovingly. 

“It’s not like they’re gonna find out!” he says helplessly.

“Katara and Aang are his parents,” Zuko says, crossing his arms, “and we promised to take care of him for them.” He sits down and moves the plate out of Sokka’s reach, much to his husband’s dismay. “That means following their rules.”

Sokka sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces, his eyes closing briefly in resignation. They open suddenly, and he points a finger in Zuko’s direction. “But when we have a kid, they’re eating meat every day.”

Zuko freezes in response. When he and Sokka have talked about children, it has always been in the abstract, and always in a distant future neither can really envision. They both know of the expectations for an heir, but still, the surrounding language has  _ always _ been “if;” never “when.” Even the last time it was mentioned, three months before, when a very drunk, very off-duty Admiral Chen made a comment about preparing the navy for toddlers armed with boomerangs and fire, Sokka only mirrored the horrified expression on Zuko’s own face. 

Sokka barrels on, clearly not having noticed Zuko’s reaction, or his lack of a response. “Change of plans,” he says to Bumi, who reaches out with his tiny hand to lightly smack Sokka’s cheek. Sokka grins in response. “We’re trying fish.”

The words pull Zuko out of his daydream. “Sokka,” he says warningly.

“What? It’s fish,” Sokka says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s barely meat.” 

He pulls off a small piece of grilled fish and brings it close to Bumi, whose eyes widen at the sight. He pulses forward on Sokka’s arm with his mouth open wide, waiting expectantly. With a shift of an inch, the fish lands in his mouth, and Bumi bursts into a loud hum. 

Zuko laughs loudly at the sound.

“It’s good, right?” Sokka asks excitedly, already getting more for the baby boy to eat. Bumi nods his head, and his wild hair bounces around him, mouth already open again for the next approaching morsel. “Yeah, get the skin, it’s the best part!” 

Sokka looks up to beam at Zuko. “This might not be so bad after all,” he says. His eyes sparkle with an energy Zuko’s never seen from him before. 

“Yeah.” Zuko leans forward to feed Bumi his next bite himself, and chuckles when his nephew grows impatient and grabs the fish off of the chopsticks, mashing it into little flakes between his tiny fingers. He only laughs more as Sokka desperately tries to keep any of the flakes from falling on his clothing, but soon enough, Zuko grabs a napkin and distracts Bumi with a piece of sweet potato, cleaning off one little hand at a time. Sokka smiles gratefully at him and pulls Bumi back into his lap, while Zuko folds the napkin back up and places it beside his plate on the table. He settles back into his seat and listens to the wind in the leaves, the vibration of insect wings, the little songs of the birds, and Bumi, humming loudly still with each taste of his breakfast, and beginning to converse with his uncle in his special brand of baby talk.

Zuko smiles. “It might even be kind of fun.”


	2. Chapter 2

“This is so not fun,” Sokka shouts at Zuko. “Definitely not fun at all.”

Zuko ignores him, which is easy enough with Bumi crying in his ear. He’s been crying for hours now, long enough that the palace attendants have stopped running to his and Sokka’s quarters in alarm, frightened by the sounds of such loud wails. 

The day started out so well, with games of peek-a-boo and pattycake after breakfast, and then a stroll through the gardens after lunch, with only a minor mishap in between —“It’s in my  _ eye _ , Zuko,” Sokka yelled when they changed the baby for the first time, “he peed in my eye! Cover him up, now, honestly, where between here and the Spirit World did he learn to aim so high!” And Bumi stayed so giggly and happy all morning and afternoon with his uncles that Sokka suggested they skip his nap.

“I don’t know,” Zuko said nervously. “Katara’s normally so serious about it.”

“Yeah, sure, but look at him!” Sokka lifted Bumi so their faces were right next to each other, both beaming at Zuko. “The little guy’s not even tired!”

“All right,” Zuko agreed with a soft laugh, and they went on an indulgent palanquin ride around the city market instead. 

Now they’re paying the price for it. 

“Ugh, I knew we should have put him down for his nap,” Zuko says sharply. He narrowly dodges an errant from Bumi wriggling and wailing in his arms. “Now he’s overtired.”

Sokka throws his arms up over his head. “Overtired? What does that even mean? If he were overtired, he’d be sleeping right now.” He points to himself. “ _ I  _ wanna be sleeping right now.”

“And I don’t?” Zuko snaps. “I’ve been trying to rock him for over an hour!”

Sokka rubs his hand over his face. “Right. Fine. Give him here.”

Zuko hands Bumi over and watches as Sokka lays him down on the furs of the bed. Bumi’s face, scrunched and tear-streaked, nearly matches the red of the linen sheets. 

“We already tried this,” Zuko hisses. 

“What else are we supposed to do?” Sokka demands over the high-pitched cries still coming strong from Bumi. “Do you want to try the drawer again?”

Zuko’s face turns guilty. Hours earlier, when they first endeavored to go to sleep, they suddenly had to face the realization that they had no idea where to put Bumi to bed. With neither crib nor cradle, they started searching for solutions within their own bedroom. It was Sokka who spotted the elaborate dresser and pulled open a drawer with a flourish. 

“Oh, come on, it’s the perfect size,” he said indignantly when Zuko shook his head and pulled Bumi closer to his chest. Sokka put his hands on his hips challengingly. “You won’t even try it?”

As soon as they pushed aside the folded socks in the drawer, filling the empty space with blankets and a Water Tribe fur, and put Bumi down, the bawling started. It was then that Kimiko, a young member of their personal staff, entered the room. 

“My lords, I was just wondering whether you wanted—” She stopped to stifle a laugh behind her hand and failed. “What is the Avatar’s son doing in a drawer?”

Zuko helplessly between Bumi, Sokka, and Kimiko. “We didn’t know where he should sleep,” he said defensively. 

Kimiko nodded as if she understood, though she was still smiling. “Most babies in the Fire Nation just sleep with their parents,” she said.

“I didn’t know that,” Zuko admittedly quietly, and Sokka reached out to rub his back.

Kimiko’s smile turned a little sad. “That’s what my mom did with me and my brothers and sisters. All five of us.”

“Oh, yeah, same with the Water Tribe,” Sokka said with a quick nod. He turned away from Kimiko to face Zuko. “Five!” he mouthed in alarm. 

Zuko ignored his sneaky comment. “If you knew that before, Sokka, why didn’t you suggest it?” he asked exasperatedly. 

“I just remembered,” Sokka replied. He scooped Bumi, still crying, up and out of the drawer. “It’s late, and I’ve been entertaining this kid all day. My brain’s exhausted.”

Zuko’s face softened, and he reached out to tuck back a strand that had fallen out of Sokka’s wolftail. He was pulled out of the moment only by the sound of Kimiko clearing her throat.

“I’ll get going, then,” she said when the two men looked up at her. “Since it seems you’re headed to bed.” Bumi was still crying in Sokka’s arms. “I’d wish you luck, but it looks like you’ve got it covered. This baby’s in good hand.” And she smiled and took her leave.

Zuko almost wishes she were back so he could ask Kimiko how her mother calmed her babies enough that she was willing to have five of them. 

“How does a person have five babies when we can’t even handle one?” Sokka asks. He hovers over Bumi like an insect in summer. “How long can babies actually cry? It’s a miracle he hasn’t passed out yet. Wait, do you think he’s gonna pass out?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Zuko says hurriedly, eyes widening as he considers the possibility. “Are we sure he isn’t hungry?”

Sokka holds out his hand and Zuko gives him the bottle on the nightstand, desperately hoping that this time it might take. Sokka guides the bottle to Bumi’s mouth, but as soon as he sees it, Bumi wrenches his head away and bats his hand at it. His shrieks grow only louder and more persistent. Zuko stares at him hopelessly. 

“All right, that’s it,” Sokka says, and he hands Zuko back the bottle. “We’re getting serious now.”

Zuko now stares at him. “Have we not been serious this whole time?”

Sokka ignores the question. “Zuko, lie down,” he says commandingly. He scoops up the wailing baby with one arm and cradles him against his bare chest, pulling the covers back from the bed with his free hand. “Buddy,” he addresses Bumi, “you are about to learn from example.”

Zuko hesitates. “What am I doing exactly?”

“Just get in bed,” Sokka says, following his own instructions. He waits for Zuko to lie down on his side before he shifts Bumi to lie down between them. “Now he’ll see that we’re here for him if he needs us, but that we’re also trying really hard to sleep. Like normal people do.”

Zuko props himself up on his elbow to get a better view of both Bumi and Sokka. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“I don’t know, but I’m all out of other ideas,” Sokka says. He piles a few pillows behind his back and neck and drops a well-muscled arm over his eyes. 

Zuko watches Bumi continue crying, frowning slightly. He combs his fingers through the little boy’s damp hair, pushing it away from his wet face. “I know, Bumi, I know,” he says soothingly. “You’re tired and upset, and you don’t know what’s going on. I know. I’m sorry.”

Sokka peers down at them from underneath his arm. He catches Zuko’s eye. 

“He must miss Katara and Aang,” Zuko says quietly, still stroking Bumi’s hair. “Poor kid.”

Sokka takes his arm away from his face. “Yeah,” he says, smiling sympathetically down at the pair. “He must.” He sets his big hand reassuringly over the dome of Bumi’s stomach, waiting with Zuko, still playing with his hair, for Bumi to calm down, no matter how long it takes. 

Bumi’s cries fuse with the darkness of the room and last until first light.

A single beam of light slides through a chink in the curtains and falls right across Zuko’s face. He wakes slowly, blearily, rubbing a hand across his face before he can fully open his eyes. 

He has no idea when he and Sokka fell asleep, but clearly they did, because when Zuko looks over, Sokka is slumbering peacefully next to him. He sits up more than lies down, the pillows still piled beneath him against the headboard, and one of his arms has managed to hook itself into place above his head while the other curls protectively around Bumi. The baby boy lies on his stomach on Sokka’s broad chest, his own arms reaching around Sokka’s neck, and his head turned so Zuko can see the breath coming in and out of his parted little lips. In sleep, Bumi and Sokka’s faces bear identically peaceful expressions, and Zuko’s heart swells as he can count the individual features they share: their thick eyelashes, their wide noses, their cheekbones; there’s more than a shadow of Sokka in Bumi’s softer, rounder face, and the rest is clearly Katara and Aang. The thought ignites something in Zuko’s chest as he rises to grab his robe.

A light scraping sound trickles through the room as Zuko pulls the curtains closed more tightly. He hopes the late morning light won’t wake Sokka, too. When he looks back over, he spies a pair of light blue eyes blinking at him in wonder.

Bumi starts to stir, and Zuko crosses back to the bed to gently grab the baby’s hand before it can smack Sokka’s face and wake him.

“Sh, sh, shh,” Zuko hushes quietly as he pulls Bumi into his arms. His feet pad gently on the hardwood floor as he tiptoes toward the door. “We’re letting your uncle sleep in today.”

Bumi babbles something incoherent, but with great enthusiasm, and Zuko grins. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” he says quietly as he steps out of the bedroom. The door closes behind him with a small click. “We just might be able to make it happen.”

On the way through the palace halls, Zuko asks one of the attendants they pass to bring out breakfast for Bumi, and when they reach their destination, there is already a little table set under the tree, complete with a bowl of rice porridge and little side dishes of pickled cabbage and other vegetables. Bumi hardly notices, however, because he is too excited by what Zuko has brought him to see: the turtleduck pond.

They sit near the edge, in the shade of the tree, Bumi alternating between opening his mouth wide, signalling for Zuko to feed him spoonfuls of porridge, and leaning forward to try dipping his chubby little hand in the water. Zuko keeps his arm around Bumi’s middle as he coaxes the turtleducks away from the middle of the pond. 

“This one’s the mama,” he explains to Bumi as they draw closer, “like your mom, Katara. And this is her little baby, just like you.”

Bumi giggles when Zuko tickles his neck.

That’s how Sokka finds them, once he’s wandered out of bed, his tunic only half-tied. Zuko has no idea how long his husband’s been watching them when he looks up and finds him standing on the walkway nearby. From the soft look on Sokka’s face, however, it seems like it’s been a while. 

“What are you doing?” Zuko asks a little self-consciously. He snatches Bumi by the arm before he can nosedive into the pond.

“Just taking in the moment,” Sokka says with a grin. He jumps over the railing of the walkway to join them. “What are  _ you _ doing?”

“I was trying to let you sleep in,” Zuko says with a small smile. “But it looks like you had other plans.”

“What can I say? I’m too used to waking up with my husband,” Sokka replies. He grins. “He likes to rise with the sun.”

Zuko shakes his head at him, and Sokka laughs and takes Bumi.

“I still appreciate it though,” Sokka says, and he kisses Zuko’s cheek when he rises to stand next to him.

Zuko hums in response, undoing Sokka’s handiwork and tying the sash of his husband’s tunic himself. “I guess this means I can start expecting you at morning meetings,” he says when he’s done, stepping back to evaluate his own work.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sokka says quickly. His eyes fall on the table sitting under the tree. “Is there breakfast?” he asks hopefully.

“There is if you want baby food,” Zuko says with a smirk.

Sokka peers over Zuko’s head at the table, considering it.

“Vegetarian,” Zuko adds.

Sokka hangs his head in dejection. “Oh.”

Zuko takes his hand. “They’ll bring out our food soon now that you’re here,” he says teasingly. “I was waiting for you.”

Sokka’s eyes shine with emotion. “Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

Zuko hides the blush on his face as he tugs Sokka’s hand to pull him toward the table. “Not today,” he says slyly.

Sokka leans across the table, moving Bumi delicately out of the way, and kisses Zuko soundly on the mouth. He draws back and narrows his eyes at the soft smile on Zuko’s face. “Don’t test me,” he says, though he’s trying not to grin, “I’ll do it again.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

Before Sokka can reach across the table again, Bumi begins bouncing on his arm and waving, a little chant of his own invention coming from his mouth. They look up to find Hoshi walking toward them bearing a tray. He stops next to the table. 

“Finally,” Sokka says emotionally, immediately helping to take items from the tray. “Meat!”

Hoshi laughs and continues unloading the food. “There’s also some news, my lords,” he says lightly. “We’ve just received a hawk from Master Katara. She and Avatar Aang left the Earth Kingdom early this morning. They should be here in just a few hours.”

Zuko looks to Sokka, who raises his head suddenly, his mouth full. They exchange the same look of confusion. 

“Thank you, Hoshi,” Zuko says, his eyes still on Sokka and the baby on his lap. Hoshi bows and departs.

“That was fast.” Sokka swallows his food roughly. 

“It was,” Zuko agrees.

Sokka notices Bumi waving a chopstick around, aiming for his face. He gently pries it from Bumi’s hand and offers him a spoon instead. Bumi sticks it straight into his mouth. 

“Are we supposed to feel relieved? I feel like we should be relieved,” Sokka says. “We can finally sleep in peace tonight.”

Zuko watches Bumi gnaw on the spoon with the few teeth in his mouth. “Are you?” he asks. “Relieved, I mean.”

“No,” Sokka admits. He pushes back Bumi’s hair with his hand. 

“Me, neither,” Zuko says, smiling at the gesture. 

Sokka sighs. “I’m gonna miss him,” he says sadly.

“It’s not like he’s going anywhere,” Zuko says. “They’re supposed to be here till next week.”

“It’s different,” Sokka replies. 

“I know,” Zuko says quietly. 

They watch as Bumi starts banging his spoon on the table, the expression on his face one of pure joy as he looks up for their approval. Sokka grins. 

“Is it crazy to say I think we’d be good at this?” he asks. “Like with one of our own?”

Zuko tilts his head as Sokka takes the spoon, now back in Bumi’s mouth, away from the baby and, recognizing the sign of an impending cry, preemptively hands him a rice cracker. Bumi begins gumming on it instead. 

“No,” Zuko says softly. Sokka turns quickly away from Bumi, who has been patting his uncle’s face with his free hand. Zuko smiles at him. “I want to do it.”

“Really?” Sokka asks, his voice high-pitched and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, “I do. Do you?”

“Of course!”

“Even though we might not sleep for years?” Zuko asks, raising his eyebrow at Sokka.

“Look, you might be the king of sleep deprivation,” Sokka says with a roll of his eyes, “but I think I more than proved myself last night. And look!” He gestures toward himself and Bumi. “I’m functioning just fine now, thank you very much.”

Bumi nods and babbles something in agreement.

“This kid gets it.”

“I guess he does,” Zuko says. He holds his arms out and Sokka hands Bumi over gratefully, now free to dive fully into the dishes on the table. “Smart baby,” he says to Bumi. 

“Oh, he’s not gonna be the baby much longer,” Sokka says around a mouthful of rice. “Hear that, Bumi? You’re gonna have to get used to sharing the spotlight. You might wanna start preparing yourself now.”

“Sokka,” Zuko admonishes him. He covers Bumi’s ears, and Bumi’s little hands clap over his uncle’s.

Sokka holds up his hands defensively. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. Baby cousins always get the most attention.”

Zuko takes his hands away from Bumi’s ears and looks down at him. “What do you think, Bumi? Do you want a little cousin?”

Bumi looks back up at him, and then his head begins nodding slowly, his mouth open. Zuko watches in amazement, wondering if he understands what they’ve been saying, and brings his face closer to Bumi’s expectantly, hopefully, waiting for a single word to come out of the little boy, just in time for Bumi to sneeze right on his chin.

“Ugh!” 

Sokka throws his head back and laughs out loud. Bumi giggles as he watches Zuko rear back and desperately wipe at his face with his sleeve. 

“That’s a yes if I’ve ever seen one!” Sokka yells. “Zuko, your  _ face _ .”

“Just eat your rice,” Zuko says imperiously. 

But when he looks down again, he cannot help grinning at Bumi’s giggling form, and when he thinks forward a year from now, when there might be another baby at the table, dressed in a mix of Water Tribe blues and Fire Nation reds, he finds that he can’t wait.

  
  



End file.
